


The Best Moments

by stileskolpath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Bottom Derek, Bottom Derek Hale, Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek Has Issues, Derek Loves Stiles, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Mush, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Pack Bonding, Pack Dad Derek Hale, Pack Feels, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Stiles Loves Derek, Stiles Takes Care Of Derek, The Hale Pack - Freeform, Werewolf Mates, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stileskolpath/pseuds/stileskolpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stiles loved these moments. These oddly calm, quiet fractions of time when nothing is going on, and he and Derek could have a peaceful evening at home, the only major travels being the distance from the couch to the refrigerator and back again, just to grab a drink, or the leftover takeout from yesterday when the pack was over for their weekly meeting."</p><p>a.k.a. The one where Derek falls asleep in Stiles' arms, and Stiles may or may not have a crisis of conscience...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Moments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sourirs (sourirpourmoi)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourirpourmoi/gifts).



> Okay, so this is for the lovely Sourirs, whose birthday is today. It’s based on this post here and is deliberately, deliciously fluffy. I couldn’t resist. Also, it was meant to be a lot shorter, and there’s some NSFW at the end. But it’s not bad. Just a lil. Because I’m tired. It’s 3am here. I’m allowed. Anyway, happy birthday Sour! You are perfect and awesome. Enjoy!
> 
> -Stiles Kolpath

Stiles loved these moments. These oddly calm, quiet fractions of time when nothing is going on, and he and Derek could have a peaceful evening at home, the only major travels being the distance from the couch to the refrigerator and back again, just to grab a drink, or the leftover takeout from yesterday when the pack was over for their weekly meeting.

Admittedly, it’d been a relatively quiet week, so the pack meeting’s main goal was trying to decide who would have to leave the relative comfort of the oddly tactile gathering to go pick up the food that Isaac had ordered roughly thirty minutes earlier.

Derek spent the entire night trying to get the incorrigible betas to pay attention to him, going on and on about how they needed to start performing a nightly patrol of the preserve, just to make sure that nothing was amiss. It’d been a few weeks without some kind of supernaturally-related incident, and the anticipation of the next one was starting to fray at his nerves.

As the betas (and Scott, Allison, and Lydia, too because they were like half the pack, and bitched when they were lumped in with Erica, Boyd, and Isaac) played a relatively violent game of rock-paper-scissors-werewolf-ash (which is totally not a game, by the way, Stiles checked. Stupid Scott) to see who the unlucky lycanthrope would be, Stiles pulled a frustrated Derek aside.

“Dude, you need to chill.”

“But they’re no- they’re not listening to me,” Derek complained, gesturing emphatically toward the rest of the pack. Stiles turned just in time to see Scott put Isaac into a suggestive chokehold. Understandable. He he probably cheated at the game again. Allison was trying to break it up. Stiles sighed.

“So? It’s been quiet around here for a while. Let ‘em have their fun for a few hours.”

“But we need to be ready for the next thing,” Derek reasoned, leveling an all-too-serious glare at Stiles, who bit on his own tongue to keep from laughing.

Because, let’s face it, Derek trying to be serious for no real reason was absolutely adorable. To deny this simple truth, Stiles was not prepared. Well, not anymore. Not for several years now.

He reached up to wrap reassuring, long hands around Derek’s thick biceps, an instinctive little rub of affection coming out as he made contact. “

We _are_ ready, dude. We have been since we dealt with that coven of vampires two weeks ago. The plans we made then were freaking defensive gold.” Stiles edged his head forward to meet the downturned gaze of his mate.

“But if we aren’t staying vigilant _constantly_ , something else could slip through, and people will start dying again.”

Stiles sighed. Derek would probably never let go of the events of his junior year. The Darach, the alphas, Gerard, the kanima, all of it had claimed quite a few innocent lives. But that was a while ago. That was before the pack of misfit teenagers had started really coming together to work as a team, as a _pack_. That was before Stiles had found Derek camped out on the roof outside his window one morning to finally tell him how he really felt about him. That was before a lot of things.

“First of all,” Stiles intoned, ignoring an oddly feminine shriek from Isaac as Scott pounced on him for cheating at their still-ongoing game, “That was a poor application of a bastardized Harry Potter quote,” Derek chuckled. “But we _have_ been vigilant. At least once every few days a few of us head out to the old nemeton, or to the preserve, or the school, just to have a look around and make sure nothing’s been going on.”

“But wh-” Stiles cut him off.

“Second of all, with Scott’s mom forwarding on names of their newest orderlies to my dad for background checks, and Chris Argent going on ride-alongs with him a couple times a month, I think it’s safe for our pack of teenage mutant ninja-werewolves to have _one_ night off.”

Derek’s retort was nonexistent, because he knew Stiles was right. He shot him that look that was equal parts affectionate realization and ‘you little shit’.

“I guess you’re right.”

“You _know_ I’m right, Sourwolf.” Derek growled at the moniker. There was a crash from the living room, and Stiles turned to see Erica with an impressive headlock around both Scott and Isaac, who’d apparently managed to violently deconstruct the coffee table during their last round. Derek snarled, told them to clean it up by the time he got back or else, grabbed Stiles with one hand, and his jacket with the other, before he headed out to pick up the food.

\--

Anyway, despite the chaotic fun they’d had that night, it was hardly quiet. But tonight, tonight was the best. Stiles had finally made good on his threat to have Derek watch Star Wars with him, and they both had eaten copious amounts of what was left of the takeout while it played. After he’d finished eating, Derek snuggled up against Stiles’ front where he’d splayed himself out on the sofa, and pulled one of his mate’s long, sinewy arms over his side as he fit their bodies together. That was right around the time that Luke Skywalker was buying C-3PO and R2-D2 from the Jawas. By the time he was meeting Ben Kenobi, Derek was snoring with Stiles wrapped around him. Stiles looked over and chuckled in surprise. Derek almost never fell asleep first.

 _Ever_.

It had something to do with his alpha side. He was forever scooting Stiles away from the side of the bed closest to the loft’s entrance, always religiously checking the locks on all the windows and the door before each night before crawling in himself. He’d never fall asleep on the couch when he and Stiles were alone in the loft, especially when the pack was in the middle of dealing with the latest creature-feature to invade the town. Hell, he’d usually never let Stiles out of his sight when that was going on. And if he did, he was constantly sending him text messages to check in. Derek was always had to be the one on watch-duty, the one to not let Stiles enter a room if he caught a suspicious noise or scent from within it without thoroughly checking it out. If Stiles woke up in the middle of the night, Derek also shot awake, even if all that was going on was Stiles getting up to use the bathroom.

So on the rare moments that the alpha _did_ let his guard down, and fell asleep in Stiles’ arms in the middle of a movie, yeah, they were kind of perfect. Stiles loved them. Almost as much as he loved Derek himself.

Okay, maybe not that much. But they were up there.

Not to mention, sleeping Derek was ridiculously adorable. So much so that Stiles was certain that was part of the reason he never really let himself fall asleep before his human counterpart. On the rare times that Stiles had seen it happen, it was like the scowl that usually dominated his features never existed. His eyebrows would sort of soften, looking almost cloyingly placid, and his lips would slip open, parted halfway as breath eased between them.

He even drooled.

It was the best.

As the soft, rhythmic sound of Derek’s snoring deepened, Stiles settled in behind him and wrapped his arms tighter, nuzzling an involuntary grin against the nape of his mate’s neck, the way the alpha did to him a hundred times before. If Derek wasn’t dead to the world, Stiles was pretty sure he’d have heard a groan. Or one of his content little purrs. Okay, they weren’t purrs. Not according to Derek anyway. Because that made him sound like some kind of housecat. They were _growls_. They were content, humming little growls… That sounded an awful lot like the purring of an overgrown housecat.

Whatever, Stiles wasn’t going to argue.

He just pressed a gentle, open-mouthed kiss against the smooth patch of skin at the back of Derek’s neck, intending to bury his nose back against him and doze off right there on the sofa, because why would he need a bed or a blanket when he’s got his werewolf body heater.

But that was when Derek squirmed against him, pressing himself deeper into Stiles’ hips, and let out a high, whimpering, almost obscene little moan. Stiles pulled back, blinking at the back of his mate’s head and the way the skin where his lips were just pressed were flushed and bruised. He’d never made that sound before.

Even when they had sex, Derek was all low, thrumming growls, or thick, heady moans, enough usually to make Stiles worry about being eaten. You know, for a second, right before Derek would press against his lips, or nip at his collarbone, or graze a tongue across a nipple, or the crown of his cock, or the meat of his inner thigh. Then Stiles would gladly serve himself up on a silver platter, butter and everything.

But this, _this_ sound was something entirely different. It was quiet and needing. Almost submissive. Like all Derek’s usual power was suddenly gone. Somehow despite that, he seemed to want more. If there was an explanation for it, Stiles had no idea what it was.

But the effect on him was the same.

The immediate _whoosh_ of blood rushing to his groin was proof of that. So he did it again. Lower this time, at the juncture of Derek’s shoulder at the base of his neck. And it happened again. Longer this time with a deep, _wanting_ buck of Derek’s hips back into his own. Stiles craned his neck up over the side of Derek’s head, to see if he was suddenly awake, but he was still sound asleep. So Stiles repeated it, meeting the same, if not more intense results. He could feel himself harden in the meat of Derek’s ass, cock slotted perfectly against it. He lifted his head off the cushion again, this time to press his lips against the stripe of muscle that slanted off toward the hollow of Derek’s throat as his hips continued to rut gently against his own. Carefully, Stiles trailed them down, sucking quick-dissolving bruises into the skin where it met the collar of the werewolf’s shirt. His cock was standing at full attention now, hardening even more as he slipped a hand underneath the hem of Derek’s shirt, letting his fingers graze over the muscles that ridged the taut skin of his stomach. He was just about to sink his teeth into the side of Derek’s neck when he caught himself, his mouth mere millimeters away from the skin.

It’d been a while since the last time Derek had fallen asleep like this. Early. Before Stiles. Not even in bed. And as much as the sounds he was making, and the slow, deep, canting of his hips was threatening to make Stiles burst at the seams, he felt like waking his mate up would be taking advantage of the warm, safe feeling that had allowed him to drift off to sleep in the first place.

That was when it hit him. Derek wasn’t asleep because _he_ felt safe, like some predator in a warm cave on a rainy night. He had slipped into unconsciousness so easily and so thoroughly because at some level, deep down, they _both_ were.

He _and_ Stiles.

The realization sort of washed over Stiles like a warm blanket wrapped around a punch to the chest. He knew Derek would always be a jumpy, defensive, overprotective alpha who almost never let his guard down. That much was certain. Because there was a time where he’d lost everything that he loved. Several times actually. So it was understandable.

But for him to suddenly give way, let his defenses go unguarded, even for the briefest of times, and just _relax_ , that was… yeah, big stuff. And the thought of Derek finally getting a solid night’s sleep was suddenly more important than Stiles’ hard-on, especially when he was wrapped so comfortably against his warm, perfect mate.

So he let his head slump back down against the Derek-and-sofa cushion where it was resting originally, pressing his nose back against the nape of Derek’s neck, letting it take in a whiff of his subtle, woods-and-leather scent, now muted by sleep. He tucked himself in impossibly closer against the warmth of Derek’s back until they were almost one vaguely s-shaped body, niched together comfortably on the scratchy blue sofa in the living room of their loft. He closed his eyes, and with the steady, gentle thump of Derek’s heartbeat resounding in his own chest, Stiles felt himself drift off to sleep.

\--

When Stiles woke the next morning, it wasn’t because the sun was already glaring through the windows, or because the coffeemaker was already hissing angrily as it brewed a pot. No alarms were going off, no phones were ringing, nothing. He was pulled suddenly back into the conscious world by a soft feeling at the hollow of his throat, a quiet press of lips to the skin there. There was the threading of a thick, familiar arm over his side, and the gentle massaging of the palm of an attached hand against the small of his back as it slid underneath the hem of his shirt.

As he opened his eyes, and feeling returned to the rest of his body, Stiles saw Derek’s face, looking rested and content in the morning light, his eyes open and bright as they watched him wake.

The next place that Stiles found Derek’s lips was against his own.

They drank him in with a sharp intake of breath, sucking in the stale air of his lungs and the warm, sleep-heavy tinge on his scent. Stiles began to feel other things awaken too, and responded by wrapping Derek closer to him, almost on instinct.

“Morning,” he intoned into Derek’s mouth, voice cracked and dry from sleep.

“Morning,” Derek whispered back, the sound muffled by Stiles’ own mouth as he licked a tongue against the underside of his lip. Stiles stretched, tangling himself deeper into Derek’s embrace.

“So you fell asleep first last night,” Stiles finally said, once Derek pulled back from his lips.

“Did I?” His eyes were still locked on Stiles’ mouth, the way he ran a tongue over the dry skin of his lips.

“Yeah, it was kind of adorable, really.” Derek smiled. Stiles loved when that happened. What? He had a lot of favorite moments, okay?

“Yeah?”

Stiles propped his head up on an elbow. They were still on the couch. “Yeah, you dozed off during the movie.” It was meant to sound hurt, because who drifts off during Star Wars? That has to be like blasphemy or something. But there was no edge to the statement. It was thoroughly unconvincing.

“Oh, no,” Derek replied, an obvious note of sarcasm in his voice.

“Fine, be that way,” Stiles answered his mate’s dismissal of the clearly awesome movie. “Now I almost wish I _would_ have woken you up last night.”

Derek furrowed his brow in confusion. “Why would you’ve done that?”

Stiles sighed. “For glaringly obvious, sexual reasons, of course.”

“And those would be…?”

“Oh, the fact that you made sex noises when I kissed your neck,” Stiles answered, a wry smile spreading across his lips as Derek’s cheeks flushed. “And you know, because you’re you.” The color deepened. Stiles couldn’t help himself as he leaned in for another kiss. He’d save mentioning the grinding for later, when it would garner the most effect. “But because I’m awesome, and because it was a break from your whole I’m-Derek-Hale-the-world’s-most-overprotective-alpha _thang_ , I stopped myself.”

Derek growled.

“Oh relax, Sourwolf. You needed the rest, I didn’t want to wake you,” Stiles shrugged. “Plus you’re really adorable when you sleep, and I get to see it so rarely, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

“I am _not_ overprotective,” Derek replied a little too defensively. Stiles chuckled.

“Whatever dude. Just like you don’t love me.”

“I’m seriously doubting it right now.”

“Unh-huh. That’s why each one of those high little noises you made last night was combined with a thoroughly un-sexual grind of your ass against my dick.” Derek’s face was now a shade of brilliant, lobster-red. So where his ears. It was glorious.

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“Whatever, tell it to your hips, Sourwolf.”

“Why my hips?”

“Because they don’t lie as much.” Derek rolled his eyes so hard Stiles thought he was going to detach a retina.

“You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot you apparently can’t enough of, even when unconscious. Uh-huh. Sure.” He reached down and palmed Derek’s crotch through his sweatpants, a self-satisfied look spreading across his face as his hand slipped around the shaft of Derek’s hard cock. “Or now, for that matter.”

“My point still stands.”

“Pun intended?”

“Just shut up and kiss me.” Stiles didn’t have to be told twice as he brought their lips together again. It was exactly four seconds before Derek had him on his back, and was nuzzling down the edge of his jaw, Stiles’ hands threaded into his hair. There was a soft puff of air against the skin of his neck, and suddenly Stiles knew what was going to happen next.

Derek softly pressed against his neck, lips giving way to teeth, slowly, torturously, soft warmth building into a sharp fire as he sunk them in.

And from Stiles’ throat slipped a high, almost desperate sound as he bucked his hips up into Derek’s. The alpha’s responding small laugh was muffled into his skin.

“You’re an ass-wolf,” Stiles breathed, nerves already being quickly wrecked throughout his body as Derek pressed back against him.

“You know you love it,” Derek answered, easing his teeth across the ridge of Stiles’ throat. Of course he did.

This was one of his moments.

Like when Derek falls asleep in his arms. Or when they wake up curled against each other. When Derek eases down onto his cock and starts to fuck him. When the motion is finally too much to bear, and Stiles can’t help but let everything go as he comes inside Derek. When Derek clenches around him and follows suit with the snarl of his barely-contained wolf. When they’re sitting there afterward, nerves screaming in their ears and breaths heaving from their chests, and Stiles lets his hands rub over the curve of Derek’s hips. When Derek leans down to sink against his lips.

Stiles had a lot of moments. And he loved them all.

Because Derek was a part of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, thanks for reading. I hope you liked it. Please feel free to leave kudos and comments before you go, and don't forget to check out my_tumblr for any and all things Sterek!
> 
> As usual, I love you all and I'm so glad you decided to take the time to read this!
> 
> Much Love,
> 
> -SK


End file.
